Chapter 16 The Morning After
The Morning After
Taylor awoke to the sound of his alarm the next morning. Seven-thirty. Breakfast with the team was at eight so they could go over video from the game before morning practice.
He turned to get out of his bed only to find Fletcher’s bed still made.
Meaning he hadn’t gotten up in the middle of the night to sleep in it.
Meaning they held each other and slept in the same bed all night.
But Fletcher was nowhere to be seen. He must’ve woken up early to avoid him, Taylor thought.
Whatever, Taylor thought to himself. He wasn’t entirely ready to face Fletcher either after what they did last night.
He quickly brushed his teeth and put some deodorant on before trying to quickly shave his face.
He wasn’t entirely opposed to having facial hair, but he hated the way stubble felt on his face, and he was too impatient to let it grow out.
He quickly tied his hair back before he was out the door with his gear bag slung over his shoulder.
* * *
Most of the team was already sitting down and eating in the hotel’s conference room. Coach always had breakfast catered for them so they wouldn’t be subjected to the powdered eggs and cheap muffins the hotel’s continental breakfast provided.
The tables were set up in long rows with the chairs all facing the front of the room where the projector was projecting the game tape.
After scooping an entire plate full of eggs, potatoes, and fruit salad, Taylor spotted Fletcher near the back chatting with Douglas and Sánchez.
Taylor reluctantly took the seat next to them that was left empty, suddenly wishing he had been smart enough to get to breakfast before Fletcher did.
“Morning, compa.” Sánchez chirped. He slid a cup of coffee towards Taylor, who gladly accepted it.
Sánchez was quite the coffee snob. He brought his French Press and his espresso machine everywhere he went because he only liked “the real shit.” For Christmas he gave Sánchez a bag of Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee beans, which according to Sánchez was the Mercedes of coffee beans.
Taylor took a gulp of his coffee and gave Sánchez a nod of approval. “New roast?” he asked.
Sánchez shook his head. “Just Café Bustelo. I didn’t have time to order a new one to try.”
“Mhm. My favorite.”
“You say that about every cup I make you, idiot.”
Coach announced that they would start going over the game tape in five more minutes. A few of the guys quickly stood up to get seconds.
“So,” Douglas spoke. “You spent the night with Briar?” he asked, suggestively. Taylor’s eyes met Fletcher’s, who quickly looked down and shoveled a spoonful of sausage gravy into his mouth.
Taylor looked back to Douglas. “Uhh, nah,” he answered. He rubbed the corner of his eye as he let out a yawn. “She smelled too much like my grandfather.” Taylor scrunched his nose thinking about the smell of cigarettes. “I can’t stand chicks who smoke.”
Douglas nodded, agreeing. “Thank God Corinna doesn’t smoke anymore. I told her I wouldn’t kiss her if she tasted like cigarettes, so she quit.”
Sánchez’s eyes narrowed as he scoffed. “You were literally smoking last night, you asshole. That’s my baby cousin you’re talking about, by the way…”
Douglas just shrugged. “She doesn’t mind when I do it.” Sánchez glared at him.
“She probably still smokes when we’re on the road, dipshit.” Taylor laughed. “I’d bet money on it.”
Taylor watched through the corner of his eye as Sánchez patted Fletcher on his back. “I hope Piers didn’t end up walking in on you,” he smirked. Taylor nearly choked on his coffee.
Fletcher must’ve remembered the lie he told Sánchez last night to mess with Taylor. He rubbed his eye. “She ended up bailing on me. I had to go to sleep with fucking blue balls,” he lied.
“Well, I hope Piers didn’t keep you up too late. You look so tired this morning, hermano.”
Fletcher shook his head as he ran a hand through his hair. “His snoring is getting worse,” he lied. “Might have to trade roommates with someone,” he joked plainly.
“Well good luck finding anyone else who can tolerate your annoying clean freak rules. I can’t believe you let him boss you around, Piers,” Douglas joked as he looked over to Taylor.
He laughed along with Douglas and Sánchez, but the thought of Fletcher not wanting to room with him anymore caused a pit in his stomach to form.
He was completely unsure of where things stood between the two of them after what happened last night.
He felt sick to his stomach. He knew they needed to talk about it as soon as possible before things got messed up even more. If that was even possible.
Coach turned the lights off in the room as she started the footage.
The room grew silent as she covered their plays from last night.
She called Sánchez and the veteran goalie Calhoun up to the front of the room to discuss strategy for the game tonight since Calhoun was still injured from their last game.
Sánchez and Calhoun had been swapping as goalies for the games to take the pressure off, which made Sánchez really excited to have more time on the ice.
Sánchez sauntered up to the front of the room, which left Fletcher and Taylor sitting right next to each other. He looked over to Douglas, who was focusing intently on what Coach was telling them. Deciding that now was his chance, Taylor slid over into Sánchez’s empty seat.
“We need to talk about last night,” Taylor said under his breath, quiet enough so that only Fletcher would hear him.
Fletcher looked at him with a somber look on his face. Or was it a look of regret? His expression was kind of unreadable. It pissed Taylor off.
“Not now, Piers.” He responded dismissively.
“Don’t be like that.” Taylor said sharply.
“Don’t shut me out. What the hell happened last night?
You know you called me baby, right? Like multiple times, man.
” Taylor didn’t want to give him the wrong idea.
The only reason he wanted to talk about it was to cover his ass.
Last night was a mistake. It wouldn’t happen again, so they needed to be on the same page.
Fletcher didn’t respond, so Taylor begrudgingly narrowed his focus back onto whatever Coach had to say. He wasn’t going to dwell on it when he had another game against fucking Boston to deal with.
After the team reviewed the game tape, they all hopped on the bus that took them to the practice rink near Boston’s stadium.
Taylor found his usual window seat near the back of the bus, and secretly let out a breath of relief when Fletcher took the seat next to him.
Taylor was about to drive himself crazy if Fletcher started acting weird.
The last thing he needed was people questioning why the two of them seemed to be on the outs.
In fact, he decided he was kind of feeling pissed off.
Maybe he should be the one giving Fletcher the silent treatment.
He reached down into his bag and pulled out his headphones, putting them on to tune out the chatter of his teammates. He put on one of his meditation playlists as the bus pulled out of the hotel’s parking lot.
Despite looking out the window the entire time, he could feel Fletcher’s eyes on him. He tried to ignore it, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on his meditation session if he didn’t at least acknowledge Fletcher.
He turned his head to meet his gaze. “What?” he mouthed, annoyed.
Fletcher tapped on his ear, motioning for Taylor to take off his headphones. But after being dismissed by him this morning, Taylor wasn’t really in the mood to talk. Two can play at that game, dipshit, he thought to himself, smugly. One thing about Taylor was that he wasn’t above acting petty.
He made a show of turning the volume up on his phone before turning his head back to the window. He tried to ignore Fletcher for the rest of the bus ride, but his phone buzzed with a message from Fletcher a few seconds later.
Fletcher: Don’t act like I was the only one who was into it last night
Taylor hastily wrote out a response.
Taylor: Oh so now you’re ready to talk about it
Fletcher: Why are you getting pissy? You obviously liked it
Taylor looked over to Fletcher and glared at him before typing out another message.
Taylor: It was just my body reacting.
Fletcher: Mkay. So you just reacting when you begged me to give you a hickey
Taylor: I don’t even remember what I was saying.
Fletcher: Bullshit. You’re such a liar
Fletcher: You remembered me calling you baby…
Taylor: So you admit you did
Fletcher scoffed and put his phone down on his lap, ignoring Taylor. He put on his headphones and turned the music all the way up, loud enough for the music to spill outside the headphones. Taylor huffed as he quickly typed out another message.
Taylor: If you’re going to keep shutting me out and acting like a fucking brat then at least let me have some peace and quiet before practice begins
Fletcher: I’m not shutting you out. I don’t want to have a conversation about it
Taylor looked over at Fletcher again, who had a mix of frustration and defeat on his face. Fletcher quickly typed out one last message before turning his phone off and turning to look away from Taylor.
Fletcher: Just give me time to wrap my head around it
As the team unloaded from the bus, Fletcher and Taylor ended up being the last two off. Mostly because Fletcher didn’t bother letting Taylor out of their row until everyone else had gotten up. Taylor was beyond annoyed right now. Fletcher was doing it on purpose to piss him off.
When Douglas and Sánchez slid out of their row beside Taylor and Fletcher, Taylor pushed past Fletcher as he stepped out into the aisle and followed them off the bus.
He tried to ignore the way his body reacted when he was sandwiched in between Fletcher and the seat in front of them.
His ass brushed up against Fletcher’s crotch, causing Fletcher to inadvertently place his hand on Taylor’s hip to help guide him into the aisle. Taylor swatted Fletcher’s hand off him.
As they stepped off the bus, the equipment manager handed the boys their bags.
Taylor and Fletcher were the last to leave the bus, so a majority of the team was already across the parking lot nearing the back entrance of the rink.
He quickened his pace to catch up with the rest of the team, but Fletcher grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
“I’m not shutting you out.” He told him again.
“Whatever, Armstrong. I really don’t want to talk to you right now, either.”
“I really don’t know what came over me.” Fletcher confessed. “Last night, I mean.” He quickly added. “Something inside of me just…”
“Thanks for clarifying.” He rolled his eyes, making it clear to Fletcher that he was pissed off. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” Taylor said. He huffed a breath through his nose. “Last night was a mistake. We were both drunk and confused.”
Honestly, Taylor wasn’t really sure if he believed himself.
How confused was Fletcher when he stood in the shower and jerked off at the sight of Taylor?
And how confused was Taylor when he stood there and watched like he fucking liked it?
Sooner or later Taylor needed just to stop lying to himself. But today wouldn’t be the day.
“Yeah. Okay. Let’s just pretend it never happened.
Forget about it.” Fletcher agreed, sounding a little snappy.
Lucky Taylor. Neither of them spoke another word to each other as they made their way into the dressing room.
Taylor tossed his bag down on the bench in front of an empty cubby.
Fletcher occupied the one right next to him.
They were pretending nothing happened. It was fine.
* * *
They were both quick to change and somehow ended up being the first on the ice.
Despite currently being in somewhat of a rut, their chemistry on the ice was still undeniable. Whatever was going on between the two of them quickly disappeared the moment practice began.
During their four on four scrimmage, Taylor was on a line with Fletcher and Pollard against Douglas, Martin, and Singh. Taylor seamlessly weaved in and out of players as he took control of the puck. He passed it to Pollard, who had a clear opening to score.
Douglas intercepted it at the last minute, though, before bringing it all the way back to center ice. He didn’t have control of the puck for long before Fletcher slammed right up against him and took possession.
He passed it back to Pollard, who dodged an angry Singh before passing it back to Taylor at the last minute.
Taylor took possession of the puck and made a go at the goal. But Sánchez blocked it before it could go in.
“Great block, Sánchez!” Coach shouted, clapping her hands together. “Let’s keep it up, boys!”
Taylor locked eyes with Fletcher on the ice. Fletcher clenched his jaw, giving him a disdainful look. Good, Taylor thought.
Coach called for a water break, and their animosity seemed to reappear the moment they were off the ice.
Taylor tried to ignore the pit in his stomach that grew as Fletcher took a seat next to him on the bench.
He took his helmet off and ran a hand through his sweaty hair.
Fletcher looked at him through the corner of his eye.
Taylor quickly looked off to the distance and squirted some of his water into his mouth.
“Stop staring,” Fletcher leaned in and told him, loud enough only Taylor heard it.
Taylor looked back at Fletcher and scowled. “Stop being so pissy,” he muttered, thinking back to when Fletcher said he was being pissy earlier. “I wasn’t even looking at you,” he lied.
Fletcher shook his head. “I literally saw you. Stop lying.”
“Okay. Whatever. Does it bother you if I look at you?” Taylor shot back.
When Fletcher didn’t immediately answer, he lifted his water up again to take another sip. Fletcher reached over and snatched it from him, bringing it to his lips and taking a generous sip. His throat contracted as he swallowed, and Taylor could see a bead of sweat drip down. Stop, stop, stop.
Taylor held his hand out for Fletcher to give him his water back. Fletcher looked at him with a smug expression on his face, knowing Taylor was most definitely checking him out just now.
“Not at all,” Fletcher said smoothly, standing up and giving the water bottle back to Taylor. It took a minute to register what Fletcher was saying, quickly realizing he was answering Taylor’s question.